The life of one Commodore Norrington
by silent.destiney
Summary: Hey guys, I'm a dramaqueen and this story is my idea of James Life after PotC 2.. Warnings: Sparrington and dark Beckington, ShônenAi, very angsty and dark!


_**The Life of One Commodore Norrington**_

Quiet like the night he stood there. Infront of him there was a big double-winged door made of extremly heavy wood. Now was the time. His doom was coming at him with fast, big steps. He knew he shoudln't do this. He should have run when there was the chance to flee.

But he stood ever so slightly shivering out of fear for his life and soul. What would HE do once he was in HIS reach.

His slightly shivering form casted a shadow over the deserted floor, leaving a sensation of anguish filling his mind. With a sinking feeling he saw a hand reaching for the heavy wood the tremors running over it highly visible. Detesting the sentiment of helplessness, he stared quiet shocked, realising it was his own. He knocked. Twice. His trembling body barely under control.

Then there was a voice. The voice following him in his dreams, filling them with such anxiety that they tormented him even in daylight.

With exhaustingly suppressed fear he breathed deeply, straightened up and waited until the double-winged door was answered. A slight hissing was all the warning he got when suddenly the door swung open and revealed a room larger and more pompous then he could ever imagine having seen before. Then there was a man. A man he knew too well. A man who would love to see him suffer. Lord Cutler Beckett. The one man he hated more than life itself.

With a big grin on his face he waited. Sitting up when the door swung open revealing the only person he so desperatly wanted to own. The thought alone, taking this man whenever it would please him, was arousing. One look was enough to see the anxiety written all over his face. He knew. When he saw those once sparkling emeralds he also saw the dying light in his eyes. Those wonderful eyes that catched his gaze that moment he stood infront of him. At that moment he knew he had to own this man to get lucky.

Once he saw him entering he stood, walking around his ponderous table observing every step taken by the Commodore of the Royal Navy. He looked him up and down suppressing a groan imagining him already naked and bound to the table whimpering with pain and begging him to stop. With him nearing the table his own trousers thightened painfully and his arousal was rising to unthinkable hights. Only the thought of himself beeing in control over the once strong Commodore nearly had him coming.

He had to restrain himself of taking advantage of him. All this time he only wanted one thing. Commodore James Norrington. This absolutely desireable man liying beneath him screaming of pain, blood flooding down his trembling thighs, his shivering form bound to the bed. Ah how he loved this very day when he had him for the first time. When he layed first hand on him, making him scream while his tears moistened the bloody sheets. He never broke his skin wanting to keep that for the special night. That night, when he would be entirely his. How he would love to blemish his white, silken skin. Damaging this wild and untamable spirit only to break this proud man fully so that he would do everything demanded from him.

With a short nod to the man standing behind his personal treasure he insinuated to shut down the door. The only way out blockaded the Commodore was caught in the trap. With a sharp clicking sound the key was turned indicating his final downfall.

"Ah, Commodore. I hope you had a good day with such a lovely weather outside. You didn't sit in your dark office the whole day now did you?"

Noticing how Norringtons body reacted to his own voice was a pleasing sight. He sure wouldn't be able to forget this for a long time.

"You seem to be quiet disturbed. I don't know why though. There's nobody here but you and me. You see, your way back out is blocked why not try to please me? Maybe you'll be free in the end, maybe not. It's quiet like a game, isn't it? You can loose or you can win, the risk is all yours. Maybe you'd like something to drink if only to loosen you up a bit."

Walking up to the Commodore his grin widend. That was the moment James Norrington knew that Lord Cutler Beckett would never let him go whether he told him otherwise or not.

"Oh my. Cat got your tongue Commodore? I didn't remember you this quiet the last time we met. In fact I have to admit that you were rather noisy. Why so shy Commodore I can't really think of a reason for you to be so coy. It's not like we're being observed."

Already prepared to see the oh so shy Commodore look away, he took a step towards him and kept a hold of his arm preventing his chance of evasion.

"Now, now. Where do you want to go James? There is no other way to get out of my office. Really, don't you think it would be rather dumb of me to let open an escape route for you? I don't think that you want to affront me, my dear."

With a chuckling noise Norringtons arm was released only to be replaced by a harsh gripp into his hair. With something like a painful howl he was dragged down to the smaller man infront of him.

"Hm. I think I like your voice pretty much particulary when you're in pain. I think that something could be done to accomplish that. Don't you think so, my dear Commodore?"

He felt trapped. His only goal in accessible distance was to survive and start anew. Trying to forget about this night and the following ones.

When he absorbed the words being said, his body took over control. His mind began to shut down to ease the process of oblivion afterwards.

Like a caught animal he attempted to back off, trying to loosen the painful grip in his hair. His sea-green eyes filled with panic. He knew what would come next. His gaze never leaving the man infront of him, nor did his glance leave the furniture, afraid to be pushed back against one of them. With trembling limbs he tried to avoid those eyes that were sheer stripping him. He knew it would be painful, even more so because he sure won't be doing anything willingly. But he would try to resist he wouldn't give up without a last fight. He was afraid. Afraid that he would never see that one man who entered his life and changed him. Who changed his heart. But he passed the chance to be with him, passed it over for a life he could never live again. For now he was the property of a man who never knew the meaning of the word mercy. He didn't care about one's soul or heart. His only pleasure was another's pain.

He knew that he was bend violently, but he was not yet broken. But he was sure that this night would shift it for good.

Once, there was a time that he never begged, that he never lost ground. But that time seemed to be gone for a long time. One night had changed it all. Now he knew how it felt to be used, to be nothing but a toy. It was a feeling he never wished upon his worst enemy. But it was useless. Useless as well as he was. When he entered this room, he knew that this would be the end. He saw it in those eyes. His future. A broken doll, toy to everyone standing above him.

With a sudden slap in his face he was raised out of his thoughts. A stinging pain spreading over his left cheek. The blow to his face was so hard his head was jerked to the right. With tremulous lips he dared to look up and came face to face with his enemy. A sleazy smirk adorning his lips. With a sudden understanding he realised that it would start any moment.

"Now than. Let the fun begin."

With said words Beckett snatched his right wrist and hauled him forwards. Stumbling towards the heavy table he felt his footing loosened. Knowing that the fall could break his neck he immediately brought his arms infront of him preventing a hard impact. Than he felt a sharp pain stabbing in his chest a sudden darkness coming over him, his eyelids dropped shut and that was the moment he passed out.

The next thing he came to realise was his body lying on the table, his feet on the ground while the upper part of his body lied on the tabletop. He was confused, trying to breathe normaly only to find out that his lung couldn't press enough oxygen into his body. That was the exact moment when he noticed a body lying over his squeezing the air out of him pressing him down onto the surface of the table.

When he felt the breathe down his neck he felt his pulse quicken his panic-filled mind no longer in control feigning suffocation. His breathing sped up his panting filling out the dead silence. Now the other occupant of the room, lying above him also noticed the panic-striken man was awake.

"Ah. Welcome to the living Commdore. Now that you are awake we can go on. I know that you will understand that your breeches are quiet a barrier. You will also understand that forming a barrier, they have to go."

Even before he finished his sentence, James felt something cool against his back. Not to sure if he should look after the cause he tried to turn his head around while attempting not to aggravate his enemy. What he saw left him cold and shivering. There he was handling a knife. The cold, sharp metal coming in contact with heated skin. His blood running cold he gasped, feeling the sharp knife running along his pale body cutting down his garment.

"Hm. So beautiful. So innocent and all mine. There will never come anyone to get you. You belong to me and I won't give you up ever. You heard? You are my possession till the day you'll die."

His garment fell to the floor, leaving him vulnerable and open for the world to see.

"You'll see. I own you and you cannot do anything about it. That's what makes us different. I'm an important man and you are nothing. Nothing but an incredible, pretty distraction."

He felt ashamed and didn't know if he could manage it to look into those naval faces tomorrow without starting to scream out in rage and agony. He noticed his heated face, felt a burning liquid running down his cheeks and knew that it wouldn't be very long before he would break. For he sure knew that he wouldn't be able to endure more of this. This would be his end.

The next thing James felt was something wet blazing a trail upon his neck. That sick bastard started licking down a trail to his hips. Never leaving the shivering body out of his gaze.

He couldn't stop trembling again trying to loosen up the hold his foe had onto his arm. Again failing. He whimpered. Fearing the pain that had to come yet. He felt his heart beating rapidly. The darkness he wished to devour him didn't come, the only thing he saw was a painful familiar face. Dark brownish skin, that unique golden grin and a mass of black hair, falling down his slight shoulders. Jack Sparrow. He wished he could go back in time. He knew now that he was in fact in love with that comedian of a pirate. He missed him terribly. Him and his freedom that went along with him.

When he heard the rustling of clothes being shed he froze. There it was the unmistakable sound of a zipper blinding his already panic-filled mind driving his body to it's tilt. The shivering never stopped but only increased till it nearly teared him apart. He didn't want to see or feel he just wanted it to be over but his wish was never satisfied. Then the pain came ripping him apart, tearing at his insides as he screamed out of agony. Feeling every move tripling the pain inside of him he screeched feeling his voice weakening. Tears were flooding down his pale, fragile face forming a rapid stream, leaving him even more debilitated. Barely able to shift his head from one side to the other he felt the darkness overcoming him a slight smile forming on his lips, the pain forgotten for the second, then he fell, unaware of his surrounding.

With a groaning sound Beckett had to realise that his playtoy lost Consciousness. Never expecting James to faint so soon he was getting berserk starting to thrust into him with even more force slamming his body into the edge of the table repetitive.

He would show him what he'd get for enraging him. His slammed into him to the hilt, then pulled out till only the head penetrated him, then slammed back in repeating that action until he came with a yelp deep inside his own private treasure. Retreating after a while of watching the unconscious body lying in his arms, now tumbling to the hard wooden floor deprived of his grounding, he groaned in satisfaction. He seated himself on a couch standing nearby waiting till the unconscious form would move.

When he awoke the first thing he knew was the pain flooding through his body like acid liquid. He convulsed with pain not knowing how to move.

"Ah, so you're awake already. To bad you missed the fun. But I'll make sure the next time you'll be fully awake. You can go now, you're not needed anymore. But be ready because next time we won't be alone."

With said words James knew his life was over, his aking body leaving him with nothing to believe in. it was finally over and he knew it for sure when he looked into Beckett's face seeing that awful smirk on his face, saying that he was nothing but a fucktoy and that his life would never be the same.

His fight was over he backed down and now he would never recover from the blow he received. He was broken for good.

"Go now I have other things to do."

And the former Commodore stood, trying hard not to fall over in pain. And he obeyed. Leaving the office more imprisoned than he ever was.

The End


End file.
